Swipe Right
by AndAllThatMishigas
Summary: Set late s9 but in modern day (2019ish). Harry and Ruth find a way to express themselves to each other in the ways they really want to. Inspired partially by Bad Liar by Selena Gomez. Rated VERY M.


**Swipe Right**

It must have been the timing. Timing had never been Ruth's strong suit. Something she had in common with him, actually. Ruth always seemed to move too fast and end up late to everything. She had too much in her head all the time, and she got distracted from moving forward like everyone else around her. And by the time she realized the opportunities in front of her, she'd let them slip away. It had been the same thing most of her life. And never was it more obvious than with Harry Pearce.

She fell in love with him too quickly, that she knew. What had started out as a silly crush on her boss had been exacerbated by the adrenaline of their work and the closeness that their jobs afforded them amidst all the chaos. And just when she'd gotten used to the idea of loving him from a distance, desperate and terrified, he'd pushed them forward too quickly. Going out to dinner without really thinking about the consequences of the rumor mill. Ruth had run scared and by the time she'd wrapped her head around it, Cotterdam had ruined everything. He had tried to tell her that he loved her—at least that's what she always assumed—but the timing was just the worst it could have possibly been.

And then two years went by, and Ruth was dragged back to Harry at the most inopportune time. He had tried to be kind and gentle with her, to show her that his affection had not waned during their time apart. But how could she even think about Harry when the horror and overwhelming guilt of George and Nico's fates weighed her down? Once again, she was too late to what was around her.

The proposal, however, was the absolute worst of it. They were both grieving Ros's death, though Harry much more so than Ruth. And in the most atrocious display of timing ever perceived of by mankind, Harry had asked her to marry him. Never mind that they had barely been able to have a friendly conversation since her return. Never mind that he walked on eggshells around her after the way death seemed to hover in her wake. Never mind that Ruth had not been able to even think beyond the terrifyingly huge step of going out for a drink with Harry—which, incidentally, never actually happened. No, Harry had to go on about how sad it was that Ros had died alone with so few mourners and so little to show for her life outside of her job and how if he and Ruth got married, they wouldn't have the same fate. Obviously Ruth had told him no. There was no other option. It also didn't help that she, in a similarly disgusting sense of timing, had then shown him the file that proved Ros's death was brought about by Nicholas Blake.

But time had passed. They had bickered and fallen out with each other and fallen back into a more normal working relationship between them. Ruth had regained some of her confidence around him. He had started to trust her a little more. They were, the both of them, battered and bruised from all they'd experienced, but they were starting to come back around.

And that progression, the amount of time that had passed from the bitter tragedies they'd experienced, must have been the cause of Ruth's absolute insanity. It had to be insanity. There was no other explanation. She'd simply gone mad. Because for the last three days, every time Ruth looked at Harry Pearce, her face felt hot and her stomach bubbled with anxiety. Every time she looked at him, she was overpowered by a wave of desire that she'd never quite felt before. She wanted him so badly, she was squirming in her desk chair if she let herself think about it too much. Her heart beat faster whenever he was near, and the smell of him nearly made her knees buckle beneath her.

After almost a week of this insanity, Ruth realized that she was in desperate need of a good shag. Trying to relieve the tension on her own clearly hadn't been working. And as much as she wanted Harry—desperately, is how she wanted him—there was absolutely no way she could make a pass at him. After everything, she knew that wasn't fair to either of them. All she wanted was sex. And that was not an option with Harry.

So here she was, sitting at her desk, eating a sandwich during a quick lunch break, and downloading that vile app onto her phone. The reputation of it was what disgusted her and intrigued her in equal measure. Ruth may have spent more of her time underground at Thames House scouring the internet for terrorist activity than watching Channel Four, but she wasn't a complete cultural neophyte. Ruth knew what she wanted, and she knew where to get it. The answer to her overactive libido was Tinder.

The whole thing was actually shockingly simple. Enter a bit of information and photographs, say a couple sentences about herself in the bio, and off she went. Ruth took the last bite of roast beef and started swiping left and right based on the sheer physical attractiveness of each man the app showed her. After all, Tinder was for 'hook-ups' and that's exactly what she wanted. Find someone who looked like he'd be decent in bed. Meet up. Have sex. Be done. Ruth herself had never, in all her life, thought she could ever do anything like that. But desperate times and all that.

Derek: too young and a bit unclean. Swipe left. Kevin: kind eyes and muscular arms. Swipe right. Marcus: hair too long but jawline that could cut glass. Swipe right. Arthur: leering grin and Tory supporter. Swipe left.

And lo and behold, who should pop up next but James. Only James was a legend. Ruth knew that because James, age 52, 'aged scotch and classical music are all I need,' had a photo of none other than Harry Pearce. She should have bloody known that he'd be on the app. Of course he was. Modern technology was a blessing for a seasoned womanizer like Harry. She rolled her eyes and looked up. His office was empty. He was at Whitehall, she knew.

For a laugh, she swiped right. But then an email came in and she had to get back to work. Ruth left her phone beside her on the desk and saw the little notifications come up when she had a match. It was a nice boost to her self-esteem that men she'd fancied had thought similarly of her.

When she got to a break in her translations, Ruth checked the app to see who she'd matched with. Marcus had messaged her to say _Hi_. A wholly unoriginal and uninteresting premise. Though when she got home later, perhaps she'd reply.

For two days, Ruth spent a little time during the day and in the evening on Tinder. She'd gotten a few matches that had seemed promising, but within about ten minutes of messaging, she was bored of whoever she was talking to and found herself uninterested in continuing. One of them, after asking how her day was and telling her she was pretty, had sent an unsolicited and highly unwelcome photograph of his erect penis. She'd very nearly deleted the app after that. She didn't, but she did stop checking it so often.

After a morning briefing, when Harry had been drumming his fingers on the table in a manner than made her imagine how he could drum those fingers over her body, Ruth hurried back to her station and immediately got to work. Work was really the only thing that fully distracted her from this erotic obsession she was developing. Even when she'd had her crush on him in the beginning, before their dinner date, she hadn't been so thoroughly consumed by this want for him.

Her phone gave a short buzz and she fished it out from underneath the files strewn across her desk. Tinder notification. New match and new message. Maybe some handsome man would get her mind off Harry for a moment. But the exact opposite turned out to be the case. The new match was with Harry. Or 'James' as he was known on Tinder. And he had sent her a message.

_Didn't figure you for the sort to be on a dating app, Ruth. Particularly not one like this._

She replied immediately, forcing herself not to look up and see if he was watching her from the window of his office. _I didn't figure you for this either_.

_Oh?_ he asked in response.

_Well, you're the sort of person for Tinder, but I didn't know you knew how to work an app_.

Ruth pressed send and then did allow herself to look over to Harry. She watched him look at his mobile and toss his head back in what she knew was a sharp bark of a laugh. His office was soundproof, so she could not actually hear him. Which was just as well. He had a wheezy sort of laugh that made her whole body tingle.

Christ, enough of this! In a small fit of pique, Ruth chucked her phone in a drawer of her desk and returned to work.

When she got home that evening, Ruth allowed herself to check Tinder again. Four new messages. She ignored all but one of them. From Harry.

_I have quite a number of skills you know nothing about_, he said.

Ruth felt as though she was going to melt into a puddle of goo. She had a fairly good idea of what those skills might be. Skills she wanted so much to experience for herself. She thought for a moment and chose her words carefully. _Why don't you tell me all about your skills? What don't I know about you?_ Perhaps she was playing with fire, but it was Tinder and none of it mattered at all.

Harry responded quite quickly. _I was a good cricket player when I was young, and I was the best runner around before my knee got shattered._

She chuckled to herself. He was telling her about his sport skills? Oh surely he could do better than that. _I'm sure you've got more skills than that_, she goaded.

_What sort of skills do you want to know about, Ruth? _

Damn him for turning it back onto her! But Ruth was not going to back down so easily. She was made of tougher stuff than she used to be. And she was protected by the relative anonymity of Tinder. Yes, she and Harry knew each other and saw each other every day. But on the app? That was fair game. She replied, _I've always noticed that you've got very nice hands. I bet you can use them quite well_.

_I've got a soft touch, when needed. And a strong grip. I have been known to grab what I want. Is that what you meant?_

Ruth smiled. Oh yes, that's what she meant. _Those fingers of yours are quite nice_.

_They have their uses. Have you ever wondered how many of them I could fit inside you?_

She gasped and dropped her phone on the kitchen floor when she got that message. A fiery jolt of arousal ripped through her, and it took everything in her not to moan out loud, imagining Harry's fingers dipping between her legs and inside of her. _Yes_, was all she managed to type upon retrieving her phone.

_I bet I could use them to make you scream_.

Ruth swallowed hard, her thumbs barely able to type a response. _I bet you could_, she answered.

_And after I do, I'll lick my fingers clean._

She did not have any words to reply to that. In fact, she went right into her bedroom and tried to pretend that it was Harry's fingers bringing her to a shattered mess rather than just her own.

The next day, neither Ruth nor Harry mentioned the erotic messages they'd sent each other the night before. They did not even allude to their new Tinder relationship. Everything on the Grid was just the same as always. Harry barking orders and Ruth barging into his office to give him the latest intelligence she'd picked up. They were dealing with a group of Chinese separatists who were rumored to be planning a suicide bombing. There was far more to be concerned with than Tinder.

That night, Ruth did not go home until nearly ten. She was too tired to do much of anything beyond shower and fall into bed. There were a few notifications from Tinder. But none of them was a message from 'James' so Ruth did not bother seeing what else was there.

The Chinese took up all of Ruth and Harry's time for another few days before the issue was resolved and CO-19 could go in and bring the group down. It was then that Ruth realized that Harry had been the one to send the last Tinder message. He was likely waiting for her response. He may have been worried that he'd taken things a step too far. Ruth wanted to assure him that quite the contrary was in fact the case.

_You have the most gorgeous mouth_, she told him, settling herself on the sofa and texting the message.

She did not wait long for the response. He must have been home by then. _Have I?_

Ruth could practically picture Harry sitting in an armchair at his home with a glass of scotch sitting beside him, taking sips between typing on his mobile. She smiled and said, _Yes. I like to think about how your mouth would feel on my body._

_ I want to put my mouth on every inch of you. I want to taste you and feel the texture of your skin under my lips and trace all the curves of your body with my tongue._

If she wasn't turned on before, she certainly was now. _Where would you start?_

_ Where would you want me to start?_

Ruth closed her eyes and imagined him, imagined that he was there with her, tried to picture exactly what she would want him to do. _Kiss me, first. It's been so long since I kissed you and felt your lips move over mine and gotten to taste your tongue. I would want you to kiss me till we can't breathe._

_ And when we could no longer breathe, I'd move to your neck and find where you're most sensitive and make you gasp at my touch and then nip at your earlobe. _

Even though he was far away, Ruth imagined she could feel just what he told her he wanted to do. A little whimper escaped her at that. While she savored the image and sensation of what Harry was describing, Ruth also pressed onward, emboldened by this exciting and forbidden interplay between them. _Last time you said you'd lick your fingers clean after having them inside me. Does that mean you'd lick right from the source, too?_

There was a slight delay in Harry's response. Ruth had a flicker of panic that now she had been the one to go too far. But he replied soon enough. _Jesus, Ruth. I'm not a young man. You're apt to give me a heart attack talking like that. And I'm too old to make a mess of my trousers!_

The idea that her words had quite possibly caused Harry to come in his pants made her feel a kind of sexual power that she'd never before possessed. But perhaps they'd gone far enough for now. _You're older than you claim, "James." I remember when you turned 52 and it wasn't this year_.

She could just imagine him grumbling over that. He responded in a predictable fashion. _Beautiful women on Tinder don't want anything to do with a man my age_.

_What would you call me, then?_ she asked, trying not to read into his statement that she herself was not in that class of beautiful women because she was on Tinder and very much wanted quite a lot to do with him.

_You're special, Ruth_.

Harry had a particular tone to his voice that he had when he spoke to her sometimes. Ruth knew without a shadow of a doubt that if he had been there beside her, he would have used that exact soft, gentle, sincere tone when he said those words to her.

The app was left ignored for another few days after that. Ruth was too busy to think about sex while there was a Georgian splinter group infiltrating the British banking system. She actually did not even go home for over twenty-four hours. Harry finally caught her nodding off at her desk and forced her to go home for a few hours. He made his driver take her, as he did not trust her to not fall asleep on the Tube and miss her stop.

They were waiting for Tariq to unravel a mess of transactions—the encryption needed to be broken before Ruth could step in and do what she did best—and for Dimitri to report back from his undercover surveillance. The chaos had paused for the time being. And amidst that momentary calm, Harry's phone buzzed.

He checked it to find that he had a Tinder message. He opened the app and found that Ruth, obviously having napped for the last few hours on his orders, had finally replied to his last message.

_So have you gotten many dates from this thing? Or what might generously be referred to as dates?_

Not precisely a response to what he'd said, but it had been days since they last engaged in their flirtatious and even erotic messages on Tinder. Harry thought carefully about whether to be truthful before replying, _I've had a number of conversations, but I've not actually met up with anyone. No dates. Nothing else like that._ The truth, he decided, was always the better option when talking to Ruth.

_Me neither_, she answered.

_What made you go on the app to begin with?_ he asked. He had been fascinated to come across her when giving his brain a break between reams of paperwork and mindlessly swiping on the app.

_Well I spend all my time on the Grid, so it's not as though I can go meet someone in a bar. And I've been alone a long time. I guess you could say I've got an itch to be scratched_.

Oh how Harry adored the way she spoke. Somehow her phrasing always made him smile. She wrote just as she spoke, though with fewer stumblings from when her brilliant mind moved too quick for her mouth to catch up. He replied, _If it's just sex you want, I think you know I'd be happy to lend a hand. Or mouth. Or anything else_.

As soon as he sent the message, he panicked, knowing that he'd toed the line of propositioning an employee. Christ, if it were anyone but Ruth, he'd be written up in a heartbeat. But she had been the one, less than a week earlier, who had suggested he eat her out—a comment when had, while he'd been lazily stroking himself at home during their conversation, made him come extremely hard without much preparation.

But Ruth did not answer right away. Harry worried that she'd taken his somewhat teasing suggestion the wrong way. Obviously he would show up and service her the second she said yes, but he would not at all be surprised or even upset if she said no. He had no expectation that she would actually say yes.

After almost ten minutes, Ruth did answer him. _It wouldn't be just sex with us, Harry. I think you know that._

She was right, of course. And she had tactfully been able to tell him no without actually outright rejecting him. She'd rejected him enough for a lifetime, to be perfectly honest. And if she were any other woman, Harry Pearce would have utterly given up.

At that very moment, Tariq came bursting into Harry's office. He'd gotten the encryption broken. Harry picked up his office phone and called Ruth's mobile.

"Yes?"

"We need you back in, Ruth. Tariq's broken the encryption."

"I'm on my way," she answered before hanging up.

Harry wondered if it was strange, carrying on a very personal conversation over Tinder, of all things, and then calling her up not with his mobile but with his desk phone to discuss work things. It was probably best this way, not to mix the two. There was a job to be done, regardless of anything else that might be going on between them.

Ruth was back at her station and hard at work not twenty minutes later. Harry could not help but watch her, as he so often did over the years, and gaze at her with pride. She'd come so far, had Ruth. There were still hints of the bumbling girl she once was. But she'd matured before his very eyes. And what had started as a fascination and attraction had since grown into the deepest love Harry had ever experienced.

He could not even begin to say when the one had turned to the other. But by the time he asked her out for dinner, he was nearly ready to marry her. And if she had not turned him down for a second date, he might have very stupidly proposed to her not long after that. She had been in exile for two years, and he had never forgotten her. And even still, he'd not had any interest in anyone else.

Harry had downloaded Tinder after she rejected his marriage proposal in an attempt to get over her. But no woman who messaged him could even begin to hold his interest. There were women who were sexier and more beautiful and certainly easier, but Harry could only compare them to Ruth. The dangerous sexpots that had once been his bread and butter practically turned his stomach now, for even looking at another woman felt like a betrayal to Ruth. Not even when he'd been married had he felt such a devotion to a woman. But he had been a different man back then. Now, he was old and tired and wanted, with a desperation that shocked him, Ruth and only Ruth.

By the time Harry made his way home that night, the Georgians had been stopped and Dimitri had been brought back out of his legend. Harry left him working on his report. Ruth was gathering her things at her station as Harry walked out, but he did not stop except to say goodnight out of politeness. She replied the same to him, and when he looked back at her, she was bent over to pick up her purse and her skirt had gotten very tight around her bum in a manner that Harry quite treasured.

Later, when he'd settled into his chair with some scotch and Handel was playing softly in the background, Harry opened up Tinder again. Ruth had messaged him last. So it was his turn now.

_You have an incredible bum, I hope you know._

It took a minute before she replied, _I have never really thought much of it before, but thank you for saying so._

_It's one of my favorite parts of you, _he said.

_Is it? I wouldn't think you'd have noticed. I wouldn't think you could see it much._

Harry gave a small laugh. She was toying with him, he could feel it. Well, she hadn't shied away before. He wouldn't ease up now. Time to move things along. _I notice it every time you've got your back to me and if you happen to bend over, I have to think of nuclear destruction to keep from getting a hard on right then and there._

She answered almost immediately, _I think your hands are just the right size to hold my bum. Do you like guiding a woman like that when she's on top of you?_

Jesus, she was good! Harry's trousers were getting a bit tight as he imagined gripping her arse and massaging her firm flesh while she rode him. He put the phone down and unbuckled his belt to pull his erection out of his pants. Perhaps he should have done this in bed or at least made sure he had tissues nearby. Next time, perhaps. Harry took another sip of scotch before answering, _I would like it very much if it was you. But I think I'd also like to bend you over and see the way that perfect bum of yours would feel as I slam my hips into it when I take you hard._

Across London, Ruth was lying in her bed and moaning at the images Harry was putting in her mind. She was having trouble coming up with a reply and even more trouble typing one. So she just said, _It's really difficult to type like this_.

_Why?_ he asked in response. _Why is it difficult to type?_

_Because this conversation is keeping one of my hands quite busy while the other tries to respond._

Harry groaned and squeezed his hard cock, imagining it was her body squeezing it for him. _Tell me, Ruth_, he typed. _Tell me exactly what you're doing._

Ruth had to tear her hand off herself in order to reply. _I'm rubbing myself. I've got two fingers thrusting in and out while I move in the right rhythm._

_Do you like it fast and hard? _

_Yes_, she admitted. _I like to feel strength and power. You're so strong and solid and powerful, Harry, everything about you_.

As she confessed the things about Harry that she found so attractive, she went back to rubbing her fingers on her clit, dipping them inside her wetness and spreading the moisture and increasing the friction. With her free hand, she did her best to keep going with her message before she sent it, wanting to tell him everything now while she could.

_When we first met, I was so attracted to your power in your position and in everything about you. That gravitas and authority. And your body, the way I know you could take me so rough and hard and make me scream your name as you thrust inside me. I want you inside me, Harry_.

She could not form any more words in her mind, so she pressed send. And immediately, she made herself come. Her back arched off the bed and she gasped as her body pulsed with her release.

Harry received the message a moment later. His own hand on his cock moved faster and faster until he came hard, wishing desperately that he could have been inside her when he did it, just as she wanted.

Once he could breathe and open his eyes, Harry responded to Ruth's message. _You are exquisite_, was all he could manage to say in his post-orgasmic haze.

_I find you quite exquisite as well_, she answered, wiping her fingers and rolling onto her stomach to be able to type easier.

_Did you finish?_ he asked.

_Yes. And quite well. Did you?_

_I did. Also quite well._ Harry smiled. This whole thing was absolutely mad. Wasn't this what the young people called 'sexting' or something like that? Never in his life did Harry Pearce imagine that he and Ruth would be sending messages to each other while they were both masturbating. What on earth was the world coming to?

_Next time, you should describe to me what you're doing. I told you mine, so it's only fair_, she pointed out.

_I'd be happy to oblige_, he replied. Next time. She wanted there to be a next time. But Harry was not ready to be done with this time. At least not with the conversation aspect. _It seems like you're quite capable of scratching the itch yourself. Why use Tinder to begin with?_ Harry asked. Ever since she answered his initial question about why she was on the app, he had so many more questions for her.

Ruth read his message and bit her lip, wondering how she could possibly tell him the truth. If she told him the truth at all. But she had told him so much already, might as well continue. _Well I had hoped to find someone to distract from the itch._

_How do you mean?_

_The itch isn't just sex, Harry. It's you._

Harry stared at those words for a long time. She wanted him. She actually really wanted him. And how could he even put into words how much he wanted her?

But before he could try to find those words, Ruth send him another message, saying, _I'm off to sleep now. Early day tomorrow. Goodnight, Harry_.

He understood that to mean she was feeling pushed too far, and for the time being, he would let it go. _Goodnight, Ruth_, he replied. _Sleep well_.

Harry took a hot shower to soothe his body before getting into bed that night. He was exhausted and sated and happy, for the time being. And that night, Harry Peace slept very well.

The next morning on the Grid went completely back to normal. There were new threats to analyze and new operations to oversee. Harry spent most of the day reviewing Dimitri's report while Ruth was buried in translations. He went out for a meeting at Whitehall while she remained practically chained to her desk. Neither of them even spoke a single word to each other. By the time Harry returned to the Grid that evening, Ruth had already left. She was getting better about that, about leaving at a reasonable time when they were not in the midst of an active operation. Harry checked his messages and reviewed a few papers awaiting his signature before he himself went home. It was just after eight by the time he walked in his front door.

He wanted to open Tinder and message Ruth right when he got home. He thought perhaps he'd fantasize about that beautiful mouth of hers sucking his cock. But he wanted to return first to the conversation they'd been having the night before. He had things he wanted to say to her. And clearly Tinder, of all places was the only place he could say them. And for that, he waited until he had gotten himself ready for bed.

_I got on this stupid app because of you, but you're also the reason I haven't been out with anyone from it_, he began.

Ruth was taking a relaxing bubble bath when her mobile—which, given her job, was never more than six inches away from her—sounded with a notification. She saw a Tinder message from Harry and smiled, but the message she read was not one she had anticipated. And his words had sparked her curiosity. _What do you mean?_

_I was trying to find a way to get over you. But instead, every single woman I see, I compare to you. None of them compare, Ruth. There's no one as smart and kind and strong and incredible as you. _

Harry could feel himself getting overwhelmed by the flood of words his fingers were typing. And so he eased himself off by hinting towards something more sexual, hoping she'd take the bait.

_I don't want to tangle my fingers in anyone else's hair. I don't want to undress anyone else's body. I don't want to fantasize about anyone else's lips. Only yours._

Ruth replied to the second message very quickly. _What fantasies do you have about my lips?_

That was exactly what he wanted her to say. He had gotten a bit of the emotions off his chest. Whether or not she acknowledged it, at least she had read it. He'd gotten to say it. And now for the fun. _Whenever you talk, I can't stop staring at your mouth. I want to trace your lips with my tongue and feel them all over my body. But I especially want to watch you close your lips around my cock and suck me off._

It was all Ruth could do to keep from slipping beneath the bathwater. Her whole body was trembling with arousal. Her breath was coming in quick pants. But she did not want to start touching herself yet. She clenched her thighs to address the ache between her legs and she prompted Harry for more. _Would you prefer me on my knees while you stand or leaning over you while we're both on a bed?_

_I think my legs would buckle if I tried to stand. And I don't fancy the idea of the strain on either of our knees in that circumstance. We could do one step better with you kneeling up by my shoulders so I can taste you while you go down on me._

Ruth whimpered at the thought of it. She'd never done anything like that before. She also had not fantasized about giving a blowjob to a man before now. She'd done it out of a sense of obligation plenty of times, but she'd never really wanted to until Harry suggested it now. And he even wanted to eat her out at the same time. _That's quite generous of you_, she replied.

_I quite like the thought of feeling the vibration of your moans on my cock_, he said in return.

_And I have no doubt you'd make me moan and scream and make all manner of sounds I would have absolutely no control over._

Harry smiled, imagining what sorts of sounds she'd make. She had a very soft, lovely voice. How might that voice cry out his name in passion. God, he wished he could find out. _Are you quite loud in bed?_ he asked her.

Ruth smirked as she typed back, _Not particularly. But have you ever known me to keep my mouth shut when the two of us are engaged in something stimulating?_

Oh that cheeky minx! Harry's pride made him hope he could make her wake the neighbors. If he ever got the chance, that is. _Well at a certain point, I hope to keep your mouth open but quite full of me_.

_Tell me what you're doing, Harry. You promised me you would. Tell me everything you're doing right now_, Ruth requested. She wanted to ask him if his cock was big, but what man would ever answer no to that question? Besides, she was fairly certain that a man like Harry Pearce, with his history, could not be less than average at the very least. That confidence of his had to be completely genuine.

Harry typed for a moment, describing everything he could. And it was much slower going with the use of only one hand. _I'm lying in my bed with my cock out. It's hard. Rock hard and aching for you. The thought of feeling your lips on it is making me throb with want. So I'm stroking up and down and squeezing every so often. I like to run my thumb over the head, especially when I'm getting close._

_Are you close now?_

_Not yet. I don't want it to end yet. I want you so much, Ruth_, he told her desperately.

Oh how she loved to hear him say that! Or rather, loved to read him write that. She wanted him to get close. She wanted to push him over the edge. _I want to take you in as far as I can. I want you to hit the back of my throat. I want to feel you come in my mouth and I want to suck off every last drop._

That nearly did him in, but even as he frantically stroked himself, imagining he was inside Ruth's mouth just as she wanted, he found the focus to send her one more message. _I want us to come together._

Harry groaned as he ejaculated, wishing desperately that Ruth could have been there to lick him clean. But he fell comatose against the bed while his heartrate returned to normal, seeing her face in his mind's eye.

If she were there with him, he'd roll over and pull her into his arms. He'd hold her naked body against his, feeling as much of her stretched out over him as he could. And then when he could, he'd kiss her and whisper his love for her against her lips.

He opened his eyes and picked up his phone, ready to tell her just that, but he had a message from her waiting. _We can come together another time. But this time, I want to taste you._ If Harry were a younger man, those words would have him ready to go again in no time. As it was, this was all he could manage for the night.

_That was incredible_, he told her. _Did you manage for yourself?_

There was a long wait before she replied. He'd cleaned himself up and gotten back into bed by the time he got her response. _Yes. Sorry for the delay. I'm in the bath, so I had to put the phone down to make sure I wouldn't splash and ruin it. _

_A bath sounds wonderful. I'd love to touch you under the water of a bath_.

Ruth smiled. _Me too. That's what I was imagining._

_I love you._

She nearly dropped her phone in the water at that.

Harry sent another message before she could respond. _I wish I could look at your beautiful face and hold you in my arms and tell you that and so much more when we're together. But that's not really how we do things, is it?_

Ruth did not know what to say to that. Her mind had gone completely blank. Her whole body, despite having just been quite satisfied, was now completely numb. She could not find a single word in her head.

But Harry seemed to know there was no real answer to what he'd just said. _Get to bed soon, Ruth. Sleep well._

Harry himself slept fitfully that night. He should have slept so very well, having made such progress with Ruth and had such an incredible orgasm like that. But his declaration had been poorly timed, he was sure. But when else was he going to tell her? How else could he make her listen to him otherwise? When they were together at work, they were professional. It had taken a lot of work for them both to get back to that place. But now knowing the erotic and emotional realities that he and Ruth could share over Tinder of all things, Harry was frustrated and unsatisfied with the thought of going to the Grid in the morning and seeing Ruth and having everything be as though their nighttime messages did not exist.

He got up earlier than usual the next morning. While he showered and shaved, Harry came up with a plan. He would not stand for this divide between them any longer. And he was finally confident that his timing wouldn't be bad. She might have been scared, but she knew already what he wanted to say. Because he'd already said it. And he knew that with all the rest, she was already in perfect agreement. Assuming the day went as planned, Harry would not have to suffer their current partitioned relationship after this evening.

Ruth had also slept badly the night before. She stared at her Tinder messages till her eyes watered. Those words he'd written to her were everything she'd ever wanted. They were also her worst nightmare. She felt so unready for him to tell her he loved her. But what a stupid thing! She had known for a long time that Harry loved her. Why did seeing the words in black and white seem to make a difference? Nothing had changed. Not a single thing had changed. And deep down, Ruth knew that. She knew this was just another step towards the honesty they had been sharing over the past weeks. Things were not progressing too quickly. They were progressing at just the right time.

And really, that was what kept Ruth up all night. She had wanted so desperately to reply. She wanted to find the words to tell Harry how much she loved him and wanted him and needed him. But he had said goodnight. And to send him a message with her own words and to not have a response from him because he was asleep would have absolutely killed her.

With a resolute conviction that she was not used to, Ruth promised herself, as she walked through the pods that morning, that she would tell Harry how she felt tonight. Tonight when they were both home, she would send him the message she knew she wanted him to read. It was time.

The day went on predictably. Briefings and translations and meetings and surveillance and intelligence gathering. They were on their way to a new operation, planning for the diplomatic visit of the Saudi prince. But that wasn't for another three weeks. Today was not a day of any urgency, and no emergency crises interrupted them at all.

At just past six, Ruth put aside her work and shut down her computer. She was the last one on the Grid that night, apart from Harry. That wasn't unusual. And he would probably see that she was leaving and make his way home soon as well.

Harry noticing Ruth's movements as she began to gather her things. No one else, apart from the skeletal night staff, were around. Now was the time. He quickly got his own things and went out to where she was putting her things in her purse.

"Ruth," he said softly.

She turned to see him leaning over her desk very close to her. "I was just heading out, Harry, is there something you need?" she asked, feeling her voice waver in a betrayal of her thundering heart to have him so close.

"Would you like me to take you home, Ruth?" he asked quietly.

"No," she responded without thinking.

"Would you like me to drive you home and take you to bed?"

Her breath caught in her throat and she managed to squeak out, "No."

Harry smirked slightly. "You're a wonderful spook, Ruth, but when it comes to this, you're a bad liar."

Ruth stared into his eyes, feeling every single desperate emotion fill her to the point of breaking. "Yes, I know," she whispered.

"Let me take you home, Ruth," he requested, holding his hand out to her.

And in a moment of bravery, Ruth did not even look around to see if anyone was watching before she took Harry's hand. She let him hold her hand as they walked out of Thames House and got into his Range Rover.

They were quiet on the drive, but as they got close to Ruth's house, Harry ventured to break the silence. "It's a bit silly that we can write to each other the most vulnerable and honest things and yet we can't seem to say a single word out loud to each other."

"I could think through my words on the app," Ruth explained. "I…I always seem to get too nervous when I'm with you."

"Why do I make you nervous?" he asked with concern.

Ruth squeezed her eyes shut, begging herself to just come out with it, to not let this opportunity pass her by. "It's too important."

"What is?"

She opened her eyes and turned to look at him while he drove. "Being with you. Every moment we aren't working is just…it's too much. It's too important. I don't want to hurt you again, and I don't want to be scared. And so I don't know what to do."

Harry's eyes were on the road but he smiled. "Talking to me, Ruth. Being honest. I think that's what we need to do. And not just when we're in our respective homes and safe from too many consequences. Being far away from you during the important things we've talked about has been driving me mad."

Ruth could not help but feel herself smile ever so slightly. "Me too."

"Really?"

"I've been wanting you so much. I know I needed time after…everything. But I finally feel something like myself again. And I know that I'm myself again because I want you."

Harry cursed himself for having to be driving while they had this conversation. But he smiled and reached out his hand to her. She took it without hesitation. And thankfully, that was exactly when he turned onto her street. There was a parking space available right in front of her door.

Ruth let go of his hand to get out of the car and go open the door to her house. Harry was right behind her, not wanting to let her get too far away. They both went inside and removed their coats.

Harry turned to face her and was immediately surprised by her fiery kiss. It didn't take him more than a moment to settle in, to respond with equal vigor. He caught her face in his hands and slid one back to tangle in the silky strands of her hair. The other drifted down her neck and trailed over her breasts before settling on her hip.

It had been far too long since Ruth had felt his lips on hers, his soft, full, pouty, beautiful lips on hers. And now they had been spending weeks discussing in delicious detail how much they wanted each other. To have it come true made Ruth's heart soar.

Harry pulled her close, his enormous hands roaming over her back. Ruth threw her arms around his neck and leaned in, her tongue tracing the line of those gorgeous lips she loved so well. Harry opened his mouth to her and allowed his hands to travel down to her bum, grasping and massaging her perfectly firm flesh. Just as he imagined, she was exquisite. He was rewarded by a throaty moan from her, and she pressed even closer to him, her breasts pillowing against his chest and her abdomen brushing against his growing arousal.

Before they could get any more lost in each other, Harry pulled away from her breathlessly. "Where's your bedroom?" he growled.

Ruth grinned. Her face was pink and her lips were swollen from his attentions so far. She stepped out of his grasp and took his hand to lead him down the hall to her bedroom.

Harry pulled her back into his kiss as soon as they were standing next to her bed. He wasted no time undoing the clasp and zip of her skirt so it would fall to her feet. She got to work loosening his tie and undoing the buttons of his shirt. When he lifted her blouse, they had to break their kiss. Ruth was left in nothing but her undergarments and Harry was eager to continue on, but he forced himself to slow down and look at her. He'd dreamed of seeing her like this for so long and now it was a reality.

"Christ, you're beautiful," he breathed.

A lovely pink blush crept over Ruth's cheeks. She didn't meet his eyes, just focused intently on pushing his shirt off him and pulling his vest over his head and unbuckling his belt. Harry placed his hands gently on her waist and backed her onto the bed. She sat down and looked up at him as he unclasped her bra, tossing it to join the pile of their clothes. He swallowed hard as her breasts were revealed to him. Full and supple and beautiful. But before he could contemplate his desire to bury his face in them, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her knickers to pull them down, forcing her to shift to allow him to remove them. She did the same with his shorts. Harry couldn't help but smirk with pride to see her eyes darken with desire as his erection sprang forth.

Ruth had been exactly right. He was extremely well-endowed. She licked her lips as she stared at his hard cock. And just as she'd felt the night before, she wanted to take him into her mouth.

"Lie back," he instructed softly, climbing onto the bed and hovering above her naked body. He leaned in, kissing her deeply. This kiss was less hurried than before. Their lips moved together languidly. But Harry needed to taste her. Having her here, he needed all of her, every single bit. He moved his kisses down her jaw to her neck, smiling against her skin as she moaned with want.

But before Harry could get down too far, Ruth stopped him. "Now you lie back," she instructed. He did as she asked and sat up, crawling over him. She leaned down and took his cock into her mouth. Harry moaned loudly, his head falling back onto the bed, overcome by the shocking skill of her lips and tongue and _Christ_ what was she doing? Harry propped himself up on his elbows to see his hard length disappear into her mouth. He indulged for a moment before stopping her. "Hang on, come here," he requested. "I already told you how I wanted to do this."

Ruth's eyes went wide. Perhaps she had not really expected him to deliver on that, but she knew exactly what he was talking about. She maneuvered herself on top of him so that she was practically sitting on Harry's face and her mouth was poised right over his cock.

His lips sucked her hard, his tongue lapping up her juices, caressing her and probing her in exactly the way she needed him. He dipped a single finger inside her, testing what she liked. He added a second thick finger to thrust inside her, feeling her flutter around him. He curled them inside her, making her scream out his name.

Up to that point, Ruth had gone back to licking and sucking his cock, but his increased attentions were too distracting. She was moaning and whimpering with him still in her mouth, feeling him shudder at the vibrations she caused, just as he'd wanted her to. But she had to pull away when he made her come, gasping his name and not being able to do anything else.

As gently as he could, Harry pushed her off of him. She was moaning from her aftershocks and tried to turn around to face him, but Harry grabbed her first. He kissed her hard, tasting himself on her tongue and making sure she could do the same. Their kiss was messy and desperate. Eventually Harry came up for air. "Turn around," he growled.

Ruth grinned in erotic desire, knowing that he was going to give in to her desire for his power and strength. So when he grabbed her hips, angling her up the way he wanted her as she waited on all fours in front of him, and a jolt of excitement rocked her core.

Harry finally got to see the gorgeous flesh he'd dreamed about. Feeling her skin, it was almost more than he could take. The width of her hips and the soft flesh moving under his massaging grasp all made him groan with desire. He rubbed his erection against her, spreading her wetness and teasing her until she practically begged him to take her. Then, unable to wait an instant longer, Harry plunged into her heat, pounding into her from behind.

She grabbed the bedsheets in her fists as she felt him deep inside her, hitting the exact spot where she needed him. She could barely hold herself up, but she didn't really need to. Harry's grip on her hips was practically bruising. He was unhinged, taking her hard and fast and rough, and she loved every second of it.

He leaned over her body, changing the angle and letting the sweat on his chest and the sweat on her back let their skin slide over each other. "I love you, Ruth," he groaned against the back of her neck. "God, I love you."

Ruth felt his teeth graze against her neck and his hot breath fuel her as he pounded inside her. "Yes, Harry!" she cried. It was overwhelming, feeling him surround every part of her and hearing him tell her he loved her. "I'm close, Harry," she whined, feeling her body build up and up.

But Harry pulled out of her then, chuckling as she whimpered at the loss of him. "I want to see you," he explained.

It took more strength than Ruth knew she possessed to be able to roll over onto her back. Harry helped her settle against the pillows before his hands skimmed down her body, pausing to roll her breasts beneath his palms and trace the elegant curve of her waist with his fingers and finally settle on her thighs. He eased them apart and Ruth happily opened her legs to welcome him between them.

Harry settled himself above her and Ruth wrapped her legs around him, encouraging him to take her. He kissed her softly once, twice, before lining himself up at her entrance. He pushed into her slowly this time, setting a steady pace to thrust into her over and over.

Ruth pulled him back down to kiss her. She took charge here, sucking on his tongue and taking his bottom lip between her teeth even as her fingernails dug into his shoulders. When she let go of his lip, she gazed into his eyes as he continued to move inside her. "I love you," she said.

It struck her that it may not have been the best time to tell him, but they were in fact making love. But she had promised herself that she would tell him that night, though she had not expected to do it in person. Instead, they were wrapped around each other and making all their fantasies come to life. Surely there was no better time to say such a thing?

Harry just nodded. "Together," he said.

She knew instantly what he meant. Ruth shifted so that she could reach between them and stroke herself while Harry moved harder and faster. "Harry," she moaned, "you're so good!"

"Come for me, Ruth," he begged. "Let me feel you."

On and on they moved together, frenzied and so deep that the air was nearly knocked out of her with each thrust. And finally she snapped, falling over the edge with a pulsating climax that made her scream out. Harry's cock was clenched by her inner walls and he tumbled over with her. The both of them rode out their orgasms as long as they could until they both finally slowed and stilled.

"I love you, Ruth, I love you," Harry breathed over and over against her neck.

"Yes, Harry, I love you," Ruth repeated back to him, her hands wandering the slick skin of his back.

Once he was able, Harry pulled out of her and rolled over onto his back beside her. "Ruth, do me a favor?"

"Yes?"

"Hand me my mobile and yours."

Both phones had been tossed to the nightstand during their furious undressing. Ruth reached out and grabbed them without question. But once she handed him his, she asked, "What do you need them for?"

"I'm deleting Tinder."

She laughed. "Oh yes, I'll do the same."

"I hoped you'd see there's no more use for it."

After the app and all of its data had been deleted, she put the phone back and rolled over to Harry. She propped herself up on her elbows and kissed him. "No. No use for it now. But it did serve a very good purpose."

"Mmm," he agreed, putting his own phone on the bedside table next to him. "Yes, I think it served us quite well."

Ruth chuckled and kissed him again. "I never thought I'd find love on Tinder."

"Then why did you swipe right on my picture?" he teased.

"Because I was already in love you," she admitted.

Harry gave her a joyful smile and kissed her once more. "Me too."


End file.
